


Two of Us

by clockworkouroboros



Category: Confessions of Dorian Gray
Genre: Ficlet, I’m in denial over the s5 ending so i wrote this, M/M, Mentions of Sex, POV First Person, and the F word, but if you’re on ao3 reading tcodg fanfic and don’t know the f word i think we have other problems, but it’s mainly just dorian and Toby being happy together i swear, but i’m a slut for vlahos narration so i’m breaking my own personal rules, canon character death, i don’t normally write fic in first person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkouroboros/pseuds/clockworkouroboros
Summary: Dorian and Toby take a holiday. This was really just an excuse to see if I could write even a short Dorian Gray narration; please let me no how I did if you read it.
Relationships: Dorian Gray/Tobias Matthews
Kudos: 5





	Two of Us

February, 1989. America. Toby and I had decided to go for an adventure, to break up the monotony of everyday, mundane,  _ boring _ life. Not that life with Toby was  _ ever _ boring. But sometimes, the humdrum of business-as-usual needed to be broken, so off to America we went.

We started off in Washington DC, which neither of us had ever been to before, despite our long lives. We enjoyed the monuments and buildings, all the gleaming, beautiful white marble, the entire city a pristine,  _ living _ mausoleum of American history. It was February, the off-season for the city, the tourists few and far between. We spent our time on the national mall, exploring the Smithsonians, each of us trying to one-up the other with our knowledge and, more importantly, experiences. I suspect both of us were greatly exaggerating the truth; I wanted to impress him with my travels, he wanted to impress me with his. Truth be told, my travels had been lonely and wandering at best. Most of the time, they involved the supernatural and great, unspeakable evils,  _ not _ heroes and glory.

But this trip was dull, almost unspeakably so. No ancient horrors from the dawn of time, no supernatural creatures hell-bent on destruction, not even a lunatic with a wooden stake or something trying to kill my vampire lover. It was boring. And it was  _ wonderful. _

After Washington DC, we stopped in New York City, saw the sights: went to the top of the Empire State Building, visited the Statue of Liberty, fed pigeons in Central Park. We were being tourists, and even though I’d lived in this city off and on for the last seventy-five years, I don’t think I’d ever seen it in this way before. It was beautiful, magnificent. I even managed to impress Toby while there, reminiscing to him about the golem I’d helped defeat back in the ‘30s.

“Which ‘30s would that be, then?” he’d asked me, that sweet smile lighting up his face. “1830s? 1930s? What?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “1930s, of course,” I informed him smugly. “I’ve only lived through one set of 30s so far, you know.”

“I always forget how young you are,” Toby murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. The cool fingers against my face sent a shiver down my spine. “God, Dorian, you make me feel old.”

“I’ve gotten past a century now,” I replied defensively. Toby never talked about his own age, except to remind me of my own youth, such as it was.

“Good for you,” he’d replied, and I immediately suspected sarcasm, but when I looked at him, he seemed earnest enough.

New York City also passed by without any problems, and both Toby and I began getting suspicious. Normally, supernatural  _ things _ couldn’t stay away from us. But we wouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth, and we spent the time wrapped up with each other. Take  _ that _ how you like. For my part, it meant kissing him wherever and whenever I could, and shagging him whenever and wherever possible.

We continued going up the east coast, the weather getting colder with every mile further north that we traveled. It  _ was _ February, after all. Still, neither of us cared so much. We had each other, and we had the added benefit of almost no tourists, since the weather turned snowy shortly afterwards.

After the east coast, we continued making our way across America. We weren’t ready to return home yet, to real life. In our case, real life meant a lot of parties, mostly, but still, we weren’t ready for that. It was the two of us against the world, and I loved it. I could have spent years like that, just Toby and me, travelling the world, exploring the continents. In a way, Toby was my world. I could have explored  _ his _ continents for years, too. Take that however you like. For my part, that meant shagging him. When I say things about Toby that are somewhat ambiguous, or perhaps sound a little like innuendos, it would be easiest to remember that they’re  _ always _ innuendos.

I wish it could have lasted longer, that holiday with Toby. That  _ last _ holiday with Toby. We toured beautiful places, saw the best America had to offer. We went to an American cinema and watched a terrible American movie, and we enjoyed it so much we forgot to use it as an excuse to snog. We held each other, and we made public displays of our affection, to the chagrin of a good many people, and yes, we fucked.

But when we got home, and we settled back into the humdrum of everyday life, he asked me to paint his portrait. That was the beginning of the end. But you know the rest. Of course you do. You know how Toby died in my arms, unable to see the beauty in the world, and how a part of me died with him that awful, awful morning.

Of course you do.


End file.
